


Progressive Dynamics

by Critically_endangered



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton is George Washington's Biological Son, Baby Alexander Hamilton, Boo we hate William he sucks, Damn okay I’m terrible at tagging and this is my first fic in like a year, Fluff and Angst, Gen, George Washington is a Dad, Google is trying to tell me cradles didn’t exist until the mid 1800s, I Edited This Instead of Sleeping, I suppose it should be noted there is some religious elements to this, I will add more tags if I decide to progress the story, Jacky realising having a baby brother is actually not too bad, Literally he’s an infant, Martha is a protective mama and she loves her babies, Me ignoring history for 4500 words straight, Okay but Washingdad also punches someone? Like we versatile, Patsy being adorably annoying and bugging her brother, This isn’t beta read as I have no Hamilton friends, Washingdad, Washington is proud of his kiddos, and I’m too scared to ask anybody, and someone does use religion inadequately, but mainly fluff, i also made Alex a few years younger in this fic than he actually would have been, idk if that needs to be a warning or not, mention of rats, protective big brother feels, so I gave lil Alex two just to spite history, so i apologise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Critically_endangered/pseuds/Critically_endangered
Summary: After rescuing his newborn baby brother from a vulnerable state of danger, nine year old Jacky Custis finally begins to adapt to the idea of forming a relationship with his stepfather’s son, even if only to protect little Alexander Washington from whoever was putting him in harms way intentionally.On the other hand, George and Martha Washington are left seething upon discovering who would ever dare attempt to injure their youngest son, now struggling to battle more confrontations than either of them could possibly justify.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington, Alexander Hamilton & George Washington & Martha Washington, Alexander Hamilton & Martha Washington, George Washington/Martha Washington, John Parke Custis & Alexander Hamilton, John Parke Custis & George Washington, Martha "Patsy" Parke Custis & Alexander Hamilton, Martha "Patsy" Parke Custis & George Washington, Martha “Patsy” Parke Custis & John Parke Custis
Comments: 29
Kudos: 45





	1. The Rat

**Author's Note:**

> Please take this AU with a pinch of salt, I was not aiming for historical accuracy here!
> 
> Feel free to stop by my tumblr (@critical-endangered) and chat Hamilton, washingdad, or any of the sort! I love making new friends, and although this fandom terrifies me I still love the history and context. 
> 
> I’ll also be posting updates and tumblr only snippets!  
> (Also if anybody can tell me how I can link my tumblr into these notes it would be greatly appreciated!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Hamilton based fic, and the first time I’m posting in over a year, so I apologise for my rustiness.  
> Hope you’re able to enjoy some fluffy brotherly love despite my atrocious writing. :)

Jacky felt his brow pinch together in a moment of frustration as the pounding droplets of rain continued to slam against his large bedroom window, easily disturbing his restless relaxation he had found deep within the pages of his new book.

He was utterly desperate to just simply lose himself in a good fictional novel, it had been far too long since he had reserved an afternoon to himself, and the appalling weather conditions and his family's busy lives had gifted him just that.

His mother, Martha, had unfortunately contracted a mild case of scarlet fever, and was bound to bed rest by their family doctor. Nobody seemed extremely concerned for his mama, it was very likely she would pull through, but he still missed her so. Not only was scarlet fever an awful illness to suffer with at any age, but if found in children it was often lethal, and if an infant was unfortunate enough to contract it, there was no chance of survival.

And so they had been separated for the larger half of the week, his mother resting in the furthest quarters of the house to avoid infecting her children. Due to the unfortunate circumstance, it had only busied his stepfather, George Washington, even more than the soldier usually was. It became solely his job alone to care for his stepchildren, as well as the newest addition to the family, his three month old, Alexander Washington.

Jacky had not been at all pleased when he had found out his mother and stepfather had conceived another child, bringing in a fifth sibling who would inevitably die like the majority of the others. Patsy had been the only other Custis child to outlive their biological father, and Jacky couldn't help but remain resentful. Not against his sister particularly, although often through teasing, he truly loved her, and he was sure he could grow to love his new baby brother just the same, but the connotations were just so poor.

George was a great man, an ideal husband, caring father figure, respectable soldier, and a loyal friend from what Jacky could gather from their short coexistence in Martha's life, and yet it had still been a struggle to accept the military man as his replacement father. He had in the end, of course, but it had taken a long while, and he knew it would only be the same situation regarding the squealing ball of flesh he had implanted upon the family.

Jacky had only interacted with his new brother a handful of times over the course of the eleven weeks since his premature birth, he had held him while the midwifes tended to his mother, seen him cuddled up to their father's chest on many occasions, or would often catch Patsy leaning over the cradle in their parents bedroom, pulling faces or telling made up stories to the infant, who certainly wasn't old enough to comprehend anything that went on around him.

Although he supposed it wasn't exactly his spiteful feelings that had kept him from forming a decent bond with his new brother, Jacky had been extremely busy with his tutoring, horse riding, and even his once-a-week waltz lessons, rendering him tired and unable to waste time frivolously cooing over Alexander. Besides, it wasn't as if Alex was in need of any protective brotherly figures, he had one of the most chivalrous father's in all of the colonies.

Whenever Alex cried, it was George who would resolve the situation, his stepfather was running himself ragged for the boy, and it honestly infuriated, yet intrigued Jacky.

Unfairly, sure, Alexander was nothing but an infant, he didn't know how to communicate his needs in any other way that didn't result in crying, but the wailing deep into the night so close to Jacky's room was utterly unbearable sometimes, and his lack of sleep and unruly emotions towards Washington and his only biological son would manifest into unjustifiable petty thoughts, ones even he knew he needed to stamp down on.

He really needed to stop acting like such a child-

"Jacky!" A sudden shriek called throughout the hallway, catching the nine year old completely off guard. He even found himself tossing his book against his bed much quicker than he would've been dignified enough to admit. His little sister came barging swiftly into his room before his fingers were even able to grace the door handle, and she soon barrelled into his chest, unable to stop her sprinting before it was too late. "Jacky! You need to come quickly!"

"Why?" He snapped, a surge of annoyance washing over him as he studied Patsy's frame from his sprawled position against the floor. She seemed absolutely fine, no physical issues that needed immediate medical attention, although he was sure there were a few mental lose ends that needed a sharp tightening inside his lapse little sister's head. "What could possibly be so important?"

It was only as he dusted off his breeches and pulled himself to his feet did he truly registered the look of concern on Patsy's usually bright smiling face. It almost knocked him sick, his eight year old sister had never looked so solicitous.

"It's a rat! I didn't know who else to tell! Papa isn't at home!" She shouted, scrambling to her feet in hot pursuit of her brother. "I-It's in Alexander's cradle, in the study and, oh Jacky he's crying!"

It took Jacky a moment to process exactly what Patsy had just said to him...before he immediately shoved past her and took off into a paced run through the already adjacent doorway. He could only just make out Alexander's cries as he stepped out into the hall, his unjust anger and distaste for his little brother seemingly evaporated into the pit of his stomach, and grave concern took its place.

He could barely register Patsy's confused yelling as she chased after her older brother, and yet still chose to ignore whatever questions he could hear, only turning to hush her as they approached the study doors.

The cradle, an old one of Patsy's if Jacky remembered rightly, the frilly lace wasn't something he would ever expect George Washington to actually purchase for his son, even if only a substitute for the boyto lay in while remaining close to his father's work station, was currently only illuminated by a dim candle light upon the desk, dangerously balanced against the edge. It was bitterly ironic, the whole reason they had established a spare cradle in their father's office was to allow the man easy access to his only biological son at any moment's notice, and now the wailing infant was alone, not only at risk of a candle dropping into his bed, but a filthy rat was scurrying amongst his sheets, probably spreading all sorts of dirt and diseases wherever it went.

How could someone have managed to leave the boy in such a vulnerable position? Was somebody trying to intentionally hurt Alexander?

Jacky payed that chilling thought no mind as he gestured for Patsy to remain in the doorway, hoping she would keep an eye out for father, or anybody for that matter.

He made quick work of pushing away the candle to a safer proximity as he arrived at the far side of the study, still allowing a glimmer of light to cast over his brother, but without risk of accidentally knocking it into his bedding.

Jacky could only wince as he took in the sight, his heart momentarily aching for the poor child. Alex hadn't been swaddled, in fact the entire cradle was empty of any blanket or source of heat, he was probably borderline freezing in his thin nightgown.

It was only when Jacky went to reach out and feel Alexander's bare feet did he finally notice the large, brown rat scouring the area with its beady black eyes, clawed toes tearing the already worn decorative lace as it snuffed itself in a circular motion.

"Can you see it, Jacky?" Patsy called, her voice hushed and barely audible over Alexander's squalling. "Can you?"

"Stop it, you're distracting me!" He hissed over his shoulder, suddenly conscious the noise of the screaming baby, his sister's worried panicking and the squeaking floorboards of the study were certainly going to alert somebody to their antics. If his theory was true, and somebody was indeed trying to hurt his baby brother, he didn't want anybody to know he was attempting to rescue him. Not to mention, if the noise grew unbearable and even managed to wake his mother on the other side of the house, it would be truly unfair on their part, she needed as much rest as possible during her sickness.

Jacky inhaled a sharp breath while keeping his vision firmly fixated on the rat as his hands began to cascade into the cradle, pressing his fingertips into Alexander's chilled ribs with a swift attempt to bring the boy out of harms way. He was ultimately surprised at just how heavy the infant was, father had always made him seem so incredibly light whenever he was holding the youngest of his children.

Jacky immediately attempted to mimic the way his mother and father would always hold Alexander, one arm tucked underneath his body, the other guarding his side to avoid any risk of being dropped.

Alex's cheeks were stained bright red with the cold, tears glistening in contrast as his face basked in the candlelight. The infant seemed to turn his head slightly, his cries muffled by the fabric of Jacky's shirt.

"Hush now, Alexander," he whispered, running his lesser used hand over the boy's head, fingers stroking the shocking amount of hair the three month old had. The boy was most likely unbelievablyfrightened, while he wasn't nearly old enough to understand just how much damage rats could do to his body, he had still been alone in an unfamiliar situation, freezing cold and without any source of comfort. "It's alright, you are safe now."

Even Jacky cringed at the first hand embarrassment of his wooden words. He had originally thought the man of the house wasn't supposed to be loving towards the children, that was the mother's job, but George had really proven that theory wrong, and strongly influenced Jacky's opinions on how much a father should love their children. It was only taking slightly longer for his physicality to catch up with his new ways of thinking.

"You cannot tell him to hush! He doesn't understand you!" Patsy huffed, meeting her brothers half way into the study with her arms outstretched, most likely in preparation to take Alexander. The older boy merely rolled his eyes at his little sister, elbowing her out of the way as he began to approach the study doors. "Give him here Jacky, he probably wants his big sister."

"Give it a rest Patsy, he does not," He sighed needlessly, his arms automatically taking on a rocking motion in an attempt to soothe Alexander's crying. "He doesn't want you, or even I, he probably wants father, maybe you'd do well to go and find him."

"No way! You'll just try and get all of the credit for rescuing Alex, when you wouldn't have even known he was in danger if it weren't for me," she ranted, once again finding herself chasing after Jacky as he cockily strode away. He had to admit, he often found humour in riling up his little sister by acting nonchalant, even to an obnoxious level. Of course his parents found it less amusing.

Upon reentering his own bedroom, Jacky gestured for Patsy to shut the door behind her, which for once she easily complied.

"Grab me a spare blanket from the storage shelf, he's bitterly cold," he ordered, smirking at his sister's own sharp reaction as she complied with his demand. After laying one of their spare blankets atop his bed, Jacky placed Alexander against the soft fabric in an attempt to both comfort and warm him. He hadn't ever swaddled an infant before, but he had seen mother and father do it enough times, it couldn't be a task too hard for him.

"You've never swaddled a baby," Patsy pointed out skeptically, the bed barely dipping beneath her weight as she sat down beside Alex, unbalancing the proportions. "Let me get one of the-"

"No." He insisted sternly, determined to keep anybody out of the affair until his father returned. If somebody had intentionally tried to harm Alexander, nobody could know he was safe, it would ruin any suspicious figures, and thus their chance at figuring out who dare attempt to hurt Washington's son. He wrapped the blankets tightly around Alexander's squirming frame, shooting his sister a glare as she opened her mouth, most likely to criticise his fair attempts to comfort the baby. "There now, you are safe in here Alex, I'm sure father will be along shortly. Of course, he would be here much _quicker_ if Patsy would just go and find him. Especially seeing as her logic is flawed, if I wanted to take the credit for rescuing you from the rat, wouldn't it make sense if I go and find father? To ensure I get the credibility?"  
  


Patsy's sudden look of realisation was utterly comical, and to watch her immediately leap from the bed and sprint towards the door even managed to rupture a laugh from the base of Jacky's throat. He wasn't quite sure if the technique he always used to influence Patsy's decisions already had a name, but if it didn't it surely needed one.

"It's so simple Alex, I should probably teach you my ways when you're older, although I won't appreciate any attempts to use it against me, is that understood?" He smiled, collecting his brother into the crook of his elbow once again. Alex's crying still hadn't completely seized, but he had certainly quietened into nothing but small hiccuping and whimpers, an achievement in Jacky's opinion.

Father was going to be so very impressed.

"Although I suppose you will have your own ways of getting whatever you want. Crying doesn't work long after you begin talking, Patsy learned that the hard way and she's yet to develop any new strategy to navigate our parents," he explained, rounding the bed to find a more comfortable position against the large amount of pillows he owned. Jacky immediately spotted his book, open to the current page he had been reading before Patsy had interrupted him and suddenly had the urge to pick it up and continue reading, it could quite possibly soothe Alex. "Personally, mother is much more stubborn in comparison to father, although neither of them care to admit it. You'll be just fine hooking Papa around your finger though, he loves you more than life itself, it's mother you've got to handle, and that's a tougher hurdle."

Alex merely whimpered into his older brother's chest, big blue eyes fluttering under the weight of his wet eyelashes.

"I can help, we have them outnumbered after all. Three men, two women, well I suppose two men and a boy, a woman and a girl, but categorising the gender and not age, we win," he thought aloud, smiling down as Alex blinked at him cynically. If there was one thing that truly unnerved him when it came to Alexander, it was the boy's outrageously exaggerated facial features. Jacky wasn't quite sure what age baby's began to comprehend, but Alex was merely three months old, eleven weeks exactly, surely he couldn't have such a grasp on life to commute so easily when he'd only been alive for eleven weeks.

"We actually outnumber everybody, you and I. We're both male, but we're also legally still children, which means no matter our teammate, whether it be father or Patsy, we always win," he explained briefly, using his freer hand to wipe away a stray tear on the boy's cheeks. At least he was warming... "I suppose you physically cannot, but don't tell Patsy I said this, she really does love you, the only reason we knew about the rat was because she had been in the study, cooing over you like she always does. An inefficient use of time, but saved you either way. We both did our bit, but as her older brother it simply goes against the unwritten code, so we cannot let her know, under any circumstances."

"They're in here, Papa!" Patsy's high pitched yelling erupted in Jacky's ears as she threw the door open, much to his annoyance. "Come quick!"

"Speak of the devil and they will appear, I suppose," Jacky hummed, glancing down into his baby brother's face. Alex merely gurgled, the corner of his lips curling at the sudden commotion.

He'd stopped crying...!

"No talk of the devil, Jacky, you know better," a light reprimanding sounded throughout the room. George Washington emerged from the dim hallway a moment later, his red military coat positively soaked, and his hair dripping against his neck and face.

"Oh, it's still raining?" He asked glumly, completely ignoring his father's gentle scolding over his use of a satanic name. He had completely forgotten about the poor weather conditions in all of the commotion, and now he certainly couldn't go horse riding with his Uncle William as they had planned that morning.

"Yes, of course it's still raining. Now why were you talking about me?" Patsy questioned in a huff, pushing herself atop the bed in an attempt to get as intimidatingly close to her brothers as humanly possible.

"Oh nothing important, I was just telling Alex how annoying you are." He teased absentmindedly, shuffling himself into an upright position as his stepfather approached. George was quick to peel away his coat, and wiped his hands dry on the innards of its layering. Smart, that way Alex wouldn't get wet.

"What-!"

"Calm down love, he's simply teasing you," George sighed, accepting Alex as Jacky willingly handed his brother over. The look of admiration and love that washed over their father's face whenever he held Alexander was certainly a picture to see, it always made their mother swoon. "Hello, little treasure, I heard you've had quite the evening."

Jacky's biological father had never been quite so creative with nicknames for his children, he had always been "son", and Patsy was simply "dear girl" or something along those lines, he didn't quite remember.

George on the other hand was very original with his pet names, and they ranged on the spectrum of every child. Nobody really had their own special nickname, they just had a list that applied to all of them, it was certainly very equal.

Well, apart from one singular name George had reserved for Alexander only, his little treasure, which Jacky could allow, the boy was a treasure to the lieutenant-colonel, his only biological son after years of doctor's telling him he couldn't conceive.

"Patsy tells me there was a rat in Alex's bed?" His father asked, a hint of concern dripping from his voice as he cradled the baby close. "And something to do with a candle?"

"Yes. Essentially, Patsy came to tell me there was a rat in Alexander's cradle, in your study. After I investigated, I noticed not only was he freezing cold since there were no blankets nearby, there was a candle dangerously close to the edge of your desk, it could've easily fallen in and seriously hurt him. I knew it couldn't be you Pa', so I'm not sure who it was." Jacky explained briefly with Patsy nodding along in confirmation.

"I have no idea," George mumbled, running his hand against Alex's tear stained cheek. "I’d put Alex in our room before I left to meet with my contact down by the river, he had been fast asleep once I departed."

Jacky felt his stomach twist in an agonising realisation, he had been right, somebody _had_ tried to purposely hurt Alex.

“Well we need to find out who moved him!" He snapped, pushing himself to his knees swiftly. "Come on Pa', someone must've done this on purpose-!"

"Now calm down Jacky, we don't know that for sure," George reassured him, placing his free hand on his eldest's shoulder. "It could've been an honest mistake. Patsy, my sweet, would you fetch me a ribbon from my room? I don't want my hair dripping all over your brother's bed."

"Yes Papa." She smiled, clearly content with her father's reassurance that it must've been a sincere mistake. Jacky couldn't quite understand why he was being so relaxed, he would've thought if anybody had ever attempted to lay hands on Alexander, George would be the first to angrily demand an explanation.

"How am I more angry about this than you are?" He snapped, folding his arms over his chest. George merely fixed him with a weary glare, waiting for the familiar click of the door as Patsy shut it behind her. "Somebody potentially put Alex in harms way! This is very serious Pa'!"

"I know that, love, I know," he hushed, wrapping an arm around Jacky's waist and pulling his eldest into a closer proximity. He immediately looked away in a moment of frustration and embarrassment, barely able to make eye contact when anger surged his veins, on top of the fact he didn't like being coddled like a child, he wasn't the baby, Alexander was. "But we wouldn't want to scare Patsy, now would we? Imagine how she would feel if somebody who lived in our house was out to hurt Alexander, it would be cruel to plague her with such worries, would it not?"

Now that he thought about it, his father was right. Patsy certainly would worry, she always did, and without mother there to console her, she'd be left alone to her own devices.

"I...suppose so," Jacky sighed as he finally brought his gaze towards his brother and father. Alex had completely silenced since George had cradled him against his chest, probably his favourite place to be. "What are we really going to do though, Pa'? I don't want Alex to get hurt, why would someone be after him?"

George merely smiled and rested his head against Jacky's, a slip of his damp auburn hair catching the boy's forehead.

"He won't get hurt, dearest, I will make sure of it," he reassured quietly. "I'll have a chat with your mother about the situation tonight, I'm sure we will be able to find an explanation, and if somebody did truly do this with ill intentions, we'll find out who. But I really must thank you for taking such good care of your brother in this state, I know his arrival hasn't been the easiest on you, and even in my absence you still handled the situation very well."

Jacky's eyes cascaded towards his lap in a mixture of bashfulness, guilt and embarrassment.

"It's no worry Pa', I actually somewhat enjoyed it, it felt kind of nice when he stopped crying because I'd been holding him," he admitted sheepishly, much to his father's enjoyment. "Why were you out by the river anyway? Was it a war contact?"

"Well now that's private information, Mister Custis, I'm afraid I cannot share that even with your mother-"

"You guys are having a big hug without me?" Patsy suddenly cut them off, rushing into the room with a blue ribbon clutched between her fingers.

"You were taking too long." Jacky shrugged.

"I was not!"

"Yes you were."

"No I wasn't! I wanted to pick the right ribbon. Papa tell him!"

"Okay that's enough, the pair of you," George interrupted, patting the empty space beside him to insinuate he wanted Patsy to sit beside them. "I dread the day Alexander starts talking, the bickering between you three will be pure anarchy."

The excitable notion that he would possibly hear Alexander's first word suddenly blossomed in Jacky's mind. He didn't remember Patsy's first word, he had only been two himself when she was born, but now there was a huge chance he would witness the very first thing little Alex ever said.

"Has Mama ever told you what our first words were?" Patsy asked curiously, scooping up her father's auburn locks with her fingers, ready to tie it all back with the blue ribbon.

"Unfortunately not, when she's better I'm sure we can ask her," George said, leaning his head back to assist Patsy. "Place your ballots on what you think Alex's first word will be. Any suggestions my loves?"

'Probably Papa,' Jacky thought to himself, although he didn't quite have the courage to say it out loud. It was clear Alex had a special attachment to his father even at such an early age, and it wouldn't shock anybody if that ended up being the first thing he said.

"I don't know! What things do baby's usually say first?" The eight year old asked curiously, wiping her now damp hands against her skirt. She was quick to shuffle into her original place, setting her chin against her father's shoulder as she leaned over to get a look at Alex, who had been lulled to sleep by the comfort of his family's safe aura.

"Well, it's usually things like Mama or Papa, or sometimes the names of animals. According to your grandmother, my first word was no, although I'm hoping that isn't a hereditary trait," George explained with a smile. "We'll just have to wait and see, it'll take quite some time for him to start talking. Now, if you two are happy for me to do so, I'm going to investigate this rat situation, hopefully it'll be gone by now, but you never know. Jacky, would you mind having your brother while I scope out the study?"

Jacky didn't offer a verbal response, instead choosing to push himself against the pillows and position his arms correctly.

"Thank you dearest. Come along Patsy, let's see if we can find this rat." George smiled, leaning down to plant a kiss to both of his boy's brows. Alex merely sighed in his sleep, a hand emerging from the inside of his disturbed blankets to curl beneath his chin.

"You won't let the rat get me, will you Papa?" Patsy asked, taking his hand as they began to exit Jacky's bedroom. The eldest child quickly recovered his book and propped it against his folded knee, ready to continue occupying himself with the intriguing story about a princess and her glass slippers.

"Of course not my angel, I would never let anything harm you, or your brothers."

Jacky smiled. He truly believed that to be true, Alex would not come to harm while father was around, they would find out who had the audacity to even attempt to put him in such a dangerous situation, and then that person would be prosecuted for their crimes.

Alex would live to speak his first word, he would hear his younger brother call out for their Papa, Jacky would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you want this series to be continued! I have lots of love to share, including brotherly feels, sisterly feels, parental feels, all the family feels. 
> 
> Anyways, I’d appreciate any sort of feedback! Thanks for reading :)


	2. The Culprit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a late night tragic tale unravels just who dared put Alexander in danger, George isn’t quite sure how to react.  
> But at least Jacky is there to take a small percentage of the weight from his shoulders, leaving Washington’s arms free to frankly murder the culprit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yall. I’ve made a slight adjustment to Jacky’s age in the first chapter, as he was born in November he wouldn’t quite be ten yet in this AU, otherwise nothing has changed.  
> I hope you enjoy and I haven’t overcomplicated the wording of the chapter at all, again I apologise for any mistakes, it’s like 4am and this isn’t beta read :)

"No Martha, I refuse to hire any sort of nanny or nursemaid. It wouldn't be beneficial to our baby, nor us or the family."

Those familiar words echoed throughout the cracks in George's mind as he lay his head against the wooden backing of the rocking chair in his study, his feet firmly planted on the floor to avoid any unexpected movement in his drowsy state.

Alexander was set in the habitual position that was the crook of his arm, head lazily resting against George's chest as he found comfort in a full stomach and the closeness of his beloved father.

When he thought about it, the disputation over the need for a governess in their household had been the very first genuine argument George and Martha had ever had within their five years of marriage.

George felt a sad smile tackle his face as the memory drifted through his mind. It had certainly startled their children, who couldn't quite keep up with their heated debating over the supper table. Jacky had been utterly dumbfounded, while Patsy's poor neck must've become quite sore from glancing back and forth between her mother and father.

And yet no matter the clear discomfort their unnatural fighting had caused his children, he hadn't backed down. He couldn't afford to back down, as he _still_ stood by his original thoughts.   


It was usually George who would cave to his wife whenever they had a slight disagreement, she was usually correct after all, but nothing would ever change his mind in regards to how he felt about employing somebody else to care for his newborn baby. Martha had been a mother five times before, she was spectacular at it, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Equally, George liked to think he had become an adequate father to Jacky and Patsy, and would only continue to thrive under experience with Alexander, and with mention of his eldests he was certain they would be more than happy to help out whenever warranted, as seen from the events of the earlier evening.

And yet Martha always seemed to insist they needed to hire a new nanny upon Alexander's arrival, which hadn't been scheduled until early March, explaining how she simply wouldn't be able to manage the household, care for her eldest two, and a new baby without losing her mind. She was adamant it lucidly wasn't possible to do alone.

Although originally hurt by Martha's lack of faith in his ability to help out with their aforementioned beautiful baby boy, George could understand she wasn't use to a husband- a male at all especially being readily available to help out at any moments notice. Daniel Custis hadn't been the most family orientated man from what Jacky had described to him, he was almost glad Patsy didn't remember life before her mother remarried.

But that didn't excuse the fact she needed to at least give George a chance. His services were not in temporary requirement with the military as luck would have it, and even when he was to be reassigned, he would make a promise to return home upon every chance he got to see his wife and children. While at home, he didn't mind tending to the duties Martha couldn't carry out while she nursed Alexander, and equally he didn't mind performing any necessary care for the baby, within biological capability of course, while Martha maintained her other responsibilities.

That should have excluded any reasonings behind hiring somebody to raise their child. Alex was his son, Martha's son, Jacky and Patsy's little brother, between the four of them they could manage one small baby, no matter his newfound neediness.

Alex suddenly let out a quiet string of unintelligible noise, before quickly settling in George's arms, bringing a small smile to the soldier's face. His son was quite frankly one of the cutest baby's he'd possibly ever met, not that he had encountered many in his lifetime.

Needy certainly wasn't the word to describe Alexander's dependency on others, it was almost as if it were a necessity to his little boy. He would scream his throat into a hoarse state if he were put down, but the moment he was placed in somebody's arms, it would very likely seize within minutes.

How would a woman with no emotional attachments to his little treasure win the same amount of affection? Frankly, George didn't believe that was humanly possible.

Martha had dismissed him when he'd mentioned this factor to her just before she'd fallen ill as she had still been insisting she was keeping her eye on finding somebody adequate to fill the role of a nursemaid, insistingany baby would fall asleep in any woman's arms.

He had merely grumbled some sort of excuse regarding his question being rhetorical rather than giving her a dignified answer, he had been extremely tired after Alex had decided to keep him up the majority of the previous evening to even bother thinking of something intelligent to say in return.

That had been one thing George hadn't been prepared for, nor had Martha warned him about beforehand.

The frequent late night interruptions that were packaged with a newborn baby, consisting of anything from feedings, to comforting, to the basic fact Alexander just liked to be held, were something he didn't believe he could ever get use to, even as a soldier.

With Martha by his side it hadn't proved to be a large issue, she would wake to feed Alex, and George would wake to tend to every other matter to ensure his wife got her rest, but with Martha hidden away in the far quarter of their house with her scarlet fever, George had finally hit a temporary bump in the road.

Now, the feeding process wasn't unresolvable. George had gotten into immediate contact with the family doctor and asked for some sort of advice, explaining a wet-nurse was to be their last priority. He had suggested due to Alex's age it was possible to substitute his mother's milk with the simple milk they used in their drinking tea, as long as it was trickled into his mouth with a spoon or some sort of mirrored utensil, if Alex didn't take well to the new method of feeding, or his body simply couldn't grow without the normality he had known since birth, than the doctor insisted George contact him to discuss alternative options.

And while it took a ridiculous amount of time to feed him, Alex took to the new method immediately, and it didn't seem to be stunting his already small growing rate. While the subpar amount of sleep he was receiving was certainly draining, it had still secured a new victory in George's pocket regarding why they didn't need a serendipitous woman raising their son.

"I think your Papa might have a chance at winning this argument, love," he chuckled, the low rumble of his voice caught in his throat due to his tired state. Alex merely looked up at him, those fabulous blue eyes flickering against the candlelight. "You wouldn't need anybody but your Mama, Papa and your big brother and sister, right?" Of course his son voiced no verbal reply, but he instead chose to flex his finger's in his father's direction, soft skin brushing George's juxtaposing course knuckles as the two touched.

Alexander's hand was utterly tiny in comparison to George's, and he almost felt it might break off if he applied any unnecessary pressure to the baby's limb.

"Speaking of your brother and sister, it seems they have both finally warmed up to you. Patsy was sold the moment she got to hold you, of course, but I hadn't seen Jacky so invested before this evening, he was so terribly worried about you. As we all were."

A set of descending footsteps seemed to viciously yank George from his moment of fawning over his son, quickly alerting him to another presence in the hallway just beyond the open door. The sounds were much to heavy to be that of Jacky or Patsy, and he couldn't quite fathom what anybody else would be doing in their family quarters at such a late time. Even _he_ wouldn't be awake if Martha had been there to feed Alex.

Who goes there?" George called out, pulling himself onto unsteady feet as the footsteps only continued to grow in volume and speed. His eyes cascaded towards the musket leaning against the wooden panelling of the wall beneath the centre window, and he found himself debating whether placing Alexander in his cradle to secure his free hands with a weapon would be wise.

"At ease, lieutenant-colonel," an obnoxious chuckle rattled through George's ears, sending a wave of regret, annoyance and only a slither of relief through his head.

Their temporary guest and George's brother-in-law, William Dandridge, stepped into the dim glow of the study, his own aura lit up with a simple one wick candle in a brass candle-dish. He was currently dressed in full set of riding gear, and was barely recognisable beneath the mud he was not only covered in, but was also treading through the house.

George had never had a great relationship with Martha's middle-younger brother, a query that had puzzled both Washington and the majority of the Dandridge family since the beginning, but for whatever reason the man didn't find George to be a good enough partner for his sister, and his talents certainly lay in making such opinions very well known.

George didn't particularly care for William's judgments, and always attempted to appear as nonchalant as possible whenever the man dove into a spiral of reasons as to why George, his plantations, his tobacco farming, his wealth, and every other issue he could find were simply not good enough for Martha, or her children, and insisted they divorce as soon as possible. They were far easier to ignore when the defamation had solely been aimed at George, but upon Alexander's arrival, it seemed Washington was no longer the primary target for William's slander, and he suddenly turned his negative attention towards the helpless baby boy.

"Mr Dandridge," he replied stiffly, his grip on Alex's frame tightening ever so slightly without realisation. "I did not expect to see you so late into the night. You were out riding I presume? Did you not think to clean yourself up before you walked mud through my house?"

William merely looked the other man up and down with a spiteful sneer, as if he were stripping away George's entire existence with a mere glance.

He could only dream of harnessing the power to rip the six foot military soldier apart in such a way.

"I don't believe my whereabouts or actions are of any concern to you, Washington," he clipped, placing his own candle atop George's desk, warily close to the edge, he noted.

"With all due respect, you are a guest in my home, and no matter your reasoning for staying here I think you would find it is of my concern as to where you are, especially this late," George sighed, eyes descending upon Alex as the boy chirped out an unreasonably loud shriek. "Attempting to deafen us, Alex?"

"Daniel Jr, Custis's first if you weren't aware, was always such a quiet infant, and although he didn't live to pass the age of four, he was still a very respectable boy, well behaved, independent, radiant," William continued, picking at the decorative lace of Patsy's old cradle, covering the fabric with layers of dirt as if he wasn't aware a young infant could contract multiple illnesses from simply the smell of the elements. "And what of your boy? Are we expecting a similar respectability factor to yourself?"

George could only quirk a brow in the smaller man's direction as he suddenly lost interest in dirtying his son's property and instead took on a swift march forward, most likely in an attempt to seem threatening without any gain on George's height. 

"This is not the place, nor the time to be having this idiotic debate," George replied, simply choosing to ignore the man's unanswerable question. He didn't want to give Martha's idiotic excuse of a brother the satisfaction of knowing he had successfully riled him up, but George was both exhausted and temperamental, and Alexander's basic rights as a Washington were being violated unnecessarily.

"Unable to defend your devil's damned boy, George?" William scoffed, reaching out a hand to touch Alexander. George's reflexes were quick however, and without his mind catching the pace of his movement, he had already jerked away. "I suppose it would hurt poor Martha if anything was to come of her precious baby boy, you should seek to have him cleansed, the antichrist his father has instilled in him through reproduction would be diminished at least."

"What on earth are you talking about?" George snapped protectively, his musket almost verbally calling his name. He truly didn't want to shoot the man, no matter how petulant he could be, but he certainly wanted to scare him off, or at least appear threatening to avoid anymore of his vile accusations. "Surely you are not comparing my only biological offspring to that of the antichrist."

One of William's arguments had always been relating George to the devil, most likely a poor attempt in rallying support from their very religious family in hopes the evil connotations of Satan would effect their judgments of Washington, but it hadn't gained much sustain, and George had hoped the petty rumours would've dissolved at that.

"And if I were? Scared of having your satanic secrets replenished, Washington?" William scorned, a somewhat taunting smile on his face. His eyes dropped towards his nephew, and George only wished he could respectably crush the man with a single stare. How dare he even fancy the idea of looking at his brilliant boy. "Tell your weak willed father that the fight is over, devil child." 

"I've heard enough, William, I do not have the time to humour your daft beliefs any longer, get out of my study," George barked, ignoring the painful pang of guilt that shot through his stomach as Alex let out a grunt of irritation, indicating the boy didn't like the loud situation he had found himself in through no fault of his own. "Leave, now." 

"No, I don't know if I will," the other man chortled, glancing past George and into the dead of night beyond the window. "I wouldn't want to impose, but you won't ever be someone I widely respect, in which case I _do_ wish to impose, it sincerely brings a smile to my face."   


William began to trail himself towards the window, brushing his dirtied arm against George's as he moved.

He didn't quite understand what sort of rejoice William thrived upon from irritating his brother-in-law, but he supposed he couldn't make sense of the majority of his traits anyway.

"So be it." He snapped. George stepped aside before he could even register William's reaction to his complacent behaviour, turning every thought and feeling towards Alexander before any sort of rage took him by surprise. He couldn't ever be angry enough at his little one to warrant any sort of extreme behaviour, Alex was able to keep his emotions grounded. "How would you feel if we retired, son? I think it's about time we took our leave, although dismissing my departure in my own home shouldn't be necessary. Wouldn't you agree, treasure-?"

He was suddenly cut off by his own undignified spluttering as a sharp pain seared through the base of his skull, knocking the breath out of George's chest. He instinctively pulled Alex into his front with his dependant arm, pulling away the other hand to check his injured neck for any bleeding...

Thankfully, none of which he could feel, but his hair was certainly sticky with drying mud, and a large bruise was most likely bubbling to the surface of his skin.

Although not leaking down his neck, George felt every speck of blood in his stream rush to his cheeks in a height of shock and anger, and the usual fight or flight instinct instilled in every soldier kicked in.

And fight was the first to rear it's ugly head.

"You feel the need to question the right of my son's respectability at three months old when you- at thirty years of age, have just chosen to strike me in the head over a mutual distaste?" He yelled in somewhat disbelief, his hand now clutching his auburn hair in a strong, trembling hold as he pivoted on his ankle. In all the years William had been at his throat, he had never chosen to strike his sister's husband before, especially if he had been holding one of the children. "You feel the need to compare my boy to the Antichrist when you- you have attempted to harm those you are supposed to love? Your own blood?!"

William simply shrugged, that same obnoxious smile plastered to the bottom half of his smug face. The rush of emotions boiling in George's stomach threatened to burst through his gut, and he couldn't quite tell if he was going to vomit or implode.

"Have at it, Washington, hit me back. I simply insist." William taunted, once again leaning forward in an unpleasantly mocking bow. George wanted nothing more than to ram his knee into the man's nose, or shove his foot deep into his shins, anything that could've caused an extreme amount of pain and somewhat respectable amount of vengeance.

"Oh I'm going to do more than simply punch you, you disgusting, pathetic excuse of a ma-"

"Pa'? Are you in here?"

George felt his hand suddenly fall slack as his fingers began to curl around William's jacket, an unexpected realisation hitting him as a high-pitched voice called out to him.

Jacky was stood in the open entrance to the study, his body illuminated by the lit candelabras hanging in the hallway. His curling hair was wildly ruffled, most likely from a restless sleep, and both his index and middle finger were picking at a torn piece of flesh flaking away from his lip, a trait Jacky was notorious for whenever he felt even remotely anxious or overwhelmed.

"Jacky, dearest, why ever are you awake at this hour?" He asked in concern, his dirtied hand slowly retracting itself from around William's collar. The man had now straightened himself upright, and yet had the audacity to look irked as if he hadn't been the one to not only attempt to sully George's name and physical being, but to rope poor Alexander into the mess.

Trust his keen stepson to interrupt at such a dire, but necessary moment.

Jacky awkwardly shuffled under his father's perturbed gaze, eyes descending towards the floor in a temporary moment of shame and embarrassment.

"I...uhm- I felt apprehensive is all, I just wanted to see if you and Alex were alright," he whispered sheepishly. George smiled slightly at his boy's unwillingness to admit just how much he cared for his younger siblings, it was endearingly sweet. "I went to check on Patsy, in case she was still worried about what happened earlier, but she was asleep-" he seemed to pause for a moment, his eyes cascading towards the candle his uncle had placed atop the desk only minutes beforehand. "Hello Uncle Billy, I didn't realise you would be up so early too."

George couldn't quite understand how Jacky was able to tell exactly who the other man was under his thick clothing and mask of both dirt and physical fury, but he supposed hypothetically it wasn't likely to be anybody else other than his uncle. William had been attached to Jacky and Patsy ever since his initial arrival over a week ago, insistent he stay at Mount Vernon to see his sickly older sister.

"Why! If it isn't my favourite nephew!" The man cheered over-exaggeratedly, much to George's immediate displeasure. He knew William was once again only attempting to get under his skin, but the reality of the situation was just how well he was accomplishing that crude achievement. Washington felt himself sneering as the man shoved by, continuing to flake mud and grass in his wake. "And just what are you doing out of bed? Shouldn't growing boy's such as yourself need as much rest as possible?"

'As if he didn't just explain his reasonings to us.' George thought to himself.

Jacky grinned at the wordy praise, but focused his attention on securely moving the candle away from its fragile positioning, much to George's relief. His smart lad knew just where his priorities lay.

"Uncle Billy you know you shouldn't really say I'm your favourite anymore. You have two nephews now, and you shouldn't really pick favourites," The nine year old chuckled, fixating his vision upon his father. William merely took a step back, clearly caught off guard by Jacky's lack of positive feedback to the endearing nickname. "Is Alex alright Pa'?"

"He's absolutely fine, love," George reassured him, his own eyes cascading downward towards his youngest as the remnants of his anger fizzled out into nothingness. Those passive blue eyes were simply staring at his father inquisitively, fingers curled beneath his chin as they escaped his blanket wrappings. "If anything, he's ready to return to bed, isn't that right, treasure?"

"How quaint," William huffed. Jacky quickly turned to quirk a brow in his Uncle's direction, whereas George forced himself to look away in fear of snapping something he shouldn't in front of the boys.

"Wait, is this a new book, Pa'?" Jacky suddenly asked, easily distracted by the leather-bound pages sat atop George's desk.

"Yes, a gift from one of my sisters, it arrived this morning. It's a book about the fifteen-to-sixteen hundred era British monarchs, newly published." He explained briefly. He knew Jacky wasn't usually too endeared by literature, and for him to enjoy a decent book it needed to be immediately captivating, George didn't think anything historical would presumably entice his eldest.

"Do you want to know something interesting about the English monarchy, Jack?" William began, suddenly taking the boy by the shoulder. George felt an unjust rush of anger take his innards at the mere sight of his brother-in-law grasping his son after the diabolical behaviour he had shown not even fifteen minutes prior. "James I of England was utterly terrified of witches, and was often the primary conductor of the witch trials during the last century. Over a thousand women were burnt at the stake for having speculations of witchcraft and deals with Satan."

Jacky's eyes went wide with shock as he soaked the information up like a rag to water. William's vision drifted towards the candle his nephew had pushed away, and before George had a moment to react he had grasped the brass candle-dish between his fingers and began to hold it upright dramatically, illuminating the surrounding ceiling and bookshelves.

"But why did they burn them, Uncle?"

"They thought it would either murder the witch, or-" he paused and glanced towards George, before breathing into the flame and extinguishing its glow. Thankfully it didn't plummet them into complete darkness, but it certainly dimmed the well receiving amount of light, twisting George's stomach in a moment of anxiety. Alexander suddenly felt extremely heavy in his arms, and he simply wanted to whisk both his boy's to bed and the night to come to an abrupt end. He wasn't use to feeling so apprehensive, as a soldier it was frowned upon to hesitate in a moment of bravery, but as a father George's priorities lay with his children, and something certainly wasn't sitting right. "-some parents believed if their babies harnessed the evil of their mothers, or even aunts who had been accused of witchcraft, it was best to burn them too, not to cause harm, but to cleanse their satanic heritage."

Jacky's attention span seemed to thrive under his Uncle's storytelling, much to George's dismay. The gut-feeling this tale of an English tragedy was not going to end well in anybody's favour was almost too painful to ignore.

"Did it work? I don't know how it could have, if something burns, it burns, right?" He asked curiously.

"That's right Jack, and even though it did not accomplish what most parents wanted, it still eliminated any chances of Satan spreading throughout their villages," William explained, removing his sodden hand from Jacky's shoulder. "There were many more stranger cures that people still swore by, some would put their children in scolding hot water in hopes it would chase away the spirits, others forced them to work consistently in hopes it would tire out the demons. My favourite, and one I can firmly understand, is the use of rats. A lot of people would allow rats to crawl all over their body in hopes of killing or scaring their evil away. A combination that apparently worked depending on how deep your beliefs and loyalty to our lord and saviour ran, rats and the raw element of fire, who would have thought."

The realisation was sudden and unexpected, almost as though George had been metaphorically smacked upside the head with a hot cooking pan.

The sharp conclusion practically fell into Washington's lap as William continued explaining the sixteen hundred witch trials; the candle hovering too close to a cradle Alexander wasn't even supposed to be in, the rat not only finding its way to the second floor of the house, but once again in close vicinity of his youngest son, and the mere fact that William always kindred George, and by association, Alex, to the devil, furthering the liability that his own brother-in-law would utilise the same torturous methods he believed to be helpful in eliminating the devil from ones soul.

George felt as if his mental capacity was slowly crumbling under the intense awareness of their situation and it became apparent he couldn't contain his fury.

If Jacky understood their situation, he certainly didn't show it, and simply continued to listen to his Uncle's stories as if they were the most interesting topic they could've ever discussed.

George could feel the rage brewing in his chest as the two spoke, waiting for a chance to overflow and allow each corner of his body to be filled with every ounce of anger he could possibly muster, and yet if only small, a tiny section of his mind was well aware his emotions needed to be held at bay. With his outrage there to blind him, George knew he was highly capable of killing this man, and while it was something he certainly deserved, he simply couldn't afford to do so. He was a soldier, a man of honour, a husband and a father, he had responsibilities and a family to care for, he could not afford any sort of prison time for a cold-blooded murder, no matter the circumstances.

But even so, he itched with the longing to cause William suffering. How dare that disgusting excuse of a man ever attempt to purposely put his son, his baby, his _treasure_ in harms way. Who did he truly think he was to commit such an act?

George could almost laugh in utter disbelief and denial. Did William truly think he would get away with it? If successful, did he not think George would've hunted down whoever dare murder his boy, and what of Martha? If William's plan was to come forward and expose himself as their saviour did he not think Martha would've cut ties and never dare speak to the man who killed her boy. And what of the rest of the Dandridge family, what did he-

"Pa? Are you alright?"

Jacky's voice gently teared George from his murderous thoughts, his concerned frown clearly prominent as the nine year old stared on at his father. William was currently glaring in his direction, the heavy history book clutched between his hands. 

Washington didn't need a mirror to know his face was purely barbarous.

"I'm fine son, I think it's time I put Alex to bed." He assured, lying through gritted teeth, the only grounding feeling he could register was the baby in his arms. He knew he wasn't going to get any sleep for the remainder of the night, the mere thought of any harm coming to Alex while George peacefully dozed beside him was utterly gut wrenching, but that thought was swiftly shoved aside. This wasn't about him, it was about a plethora of different issues.

"May I?" Jacky asked, his inadvertent cruel conversation clearly all but forgotten as his attention shifted to his family.

George felt his eyes dart from person to person as he studied his situation, before reluctantly nodding and beckoning his eldest close...he didn't quite trust himself to speak. Jacky's face immediately lit up with a large smile as he practically leapt across the study, his arms already correctly positioned before he'd even arrived in front of his father, comically prepared to take on his big brother duties.

"Jack? Were we not discussing quite an interesting historical event? I feel these things may come in use to you." William jumped in, noticeably panicked by his loss of control of the situation. Jacky chose not to answer his Uncle for a moment, his concentration perfectly settled on holding his brother correctly. For the first time since Alexander's arrival, George didn't find himself needing to prompt Jacky to mind the baby's head.

Alex seemed perfectly complacent in the change of hold, simply choosing to lean his weight against Jacky's bony arms instead of causing an unnecessary scene just to ensure his father would hold him.

"There are no witches or Satan worshippers here, Uncle Billy, I promise," the nine year old laughed, his face still primarily focused elsewhere. "Besides, it's late and I only wanted to check on my Pa' and Alex, but it was nice talking to you still, we can talk more over breakfast if you'd prefer."

"You know how to wrap his blankets, don't you?" George asked, completely cutting off whatever William had attempted to splutter in excuse. He didn't quite care for the man's opinions, he simply needed to get his boy's out of the room before the lid containing his boiling anger was no longer enough to hold him. Jacky nodded in affirmation, a proud twinkle sparking in his otherwise tired eyes. "There's a good lad, you move along now and I'll join you in just a moment, is that alright dearest?"

"Yes Pa', that's fine," Jacky turned to face the only other man in the room, seemingly unaware of his seething body language and exactly what that entailed. "Goodnight Uncle Billy, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight Jack, sleep well." He choked out, his knuckles most likely white as they latched around the heavy book, although not at all obvious due to their dirty state.

George waited for the familiar click of the door, regardless of whether it may have belonged to the study or the bedroom, before he lunged forward, both his hands firmly gripping William's shoulders. Without seconding his actions, Washington's knee had impacted the younger man's gut, and Dandridge crumbled to the ground with a yelp.

"If my two beloved boy's were not just beyond that door I would have already positioned my musket to your beating heart, and it certainly wouldn't be beating for much longer," he seethed, yanking at the other man's blond hair to force their eyes to meet. Although William's obnoxiously cocky behaviour didn't seem to falter after a swift recovery, his eyes were certainly quivering with fear. "You sicken me, William Dandridge. To even attempt to commit such a terrible act, to harm a child of your very own blood, why, I wouldn't be surprised if it were you who bled the blood of the devil!"

"I'm doing what I must to protect my family, Washington." He satirised, forcing himself to stare down George's icy glare. He couldn't quite tell whether William's lack of excuses were honourable or disgusting, but the man seemed to find no shame in admitting to his attempts to commit murder and pass it by as manslaughter, towards a helpless baby no less.

"If you had ever dared to harm our Alexander there would not have been a place you could've hid where Martha nor I would not have found you," George scoffed, raising his finger to the man's face, sending him temporarily slanted. "You underestimate just how much our son means to us, to all of us. Your vile plan had no structure, no thought of consequence, you simply wanted to hurt me, well let's relish in the turned tables." He forced William's head backwards and prepared his fist for contact. "You don't truly believe Alexander belongs to Satan, I know you don't, you just needed an excuse to bring harm to my boy, to bring harm to me, to take away the one thing I cherish more than my own life," William's eyes grew wide with fear as George allowed the brunt of his fist to crash against the former's cheekbone, the contact barely affecting his knuckles as adrenaline chased through his veins. “I'd say mission not only failed, but purely aborted. Now if I could avoid the consequences, I would have killed you long before this conversation's beginning, however as I have the intellectual capacity to understand the sentences that follow a murder case, I'm going to allow you to live," George didn't miss the quiet sigh of relief William slipped through his puckered lips. _How quaint_. "I expect you out of my house and off of my property as soon as the sun rises, and if I so much as catch a glimpse of you lingering in the distance I won't hesitate to come for you, my gun at the ready."

You feel as though you can threaten me? Everything you attempted to force upon myself would be shifted to you. Martha's hatred, your own children would resent you, my family would finally see you for the evil you conjure-"

"Martha will be made aware of what you tried to commit as soon as I have tended to my sons, she will be sensitive to the way you tried to make her baby's death look accidental by balancing a candle above his cradle, praying it would fall in. Thank goodness I have such incredible children," George whispered, his fingers twitching in a sudden urge to grab the man by his throat and throttle him. "And when your sister knows just what you did, it'll be a wonder if she doesn't kill you herself, I will become the least of your worries, and that certainly paints a picture, does it not?"

George summoned every shred of self control he could possibly beckon as his hand finally fell limp amongst William's hair, and he slowly began to retract his fingers. As much as he wanted to beat his wife's brother into a bloody pulp, he didn't quite see the point unless simply to burn out his own anger, Martha would make sure William received his karma, she was an extremely protective mother after all.

"Now, if you wish to leave this house with the rest of your bones intact, I suggest you take your departure as it has been so generously gifted," Washington took a weary step backwards and found himself forcing a gesture towards the open door. Almost as if the cogs behind his skin were visible, William seemed to weigh up his options as he stroked the history book between his hands, glaring from the open door to the heavy bound papers. George could read the man if he were himself an open book, and quickly found his foot stomping down atop the gift, forcing William to drop it against the floor with a loud thud. "Do not even think about throwing that at me, how utterly childish. I will not think twice before I forcefully remove you from the premises in a moment, without your belongings. I might burn them, what sweet tasting irony. I strongly urge you to hurry up and make a decision."

For a moment it seemed as though William was ready to reach for the book in despite of George's violent threats, but retracted the eager hand at the last moment, using it instead as a leverage to hoist himself into a crouching position. Washington forced himself to take a dozen steps back after kicking the book out of reach, certain his fraying emotions were not remotely stable enough to ensure he didn't attack the neurotic shell of a sane man.

"I will be warning my mother and other siblings of this predicament, I hope to see you in hell, Washington." William snapped, tightening his jacket around his body as he stormed towards the ajar doorway, insinuating it must've been the bedroom door Jacky had closed on his way out.

"If I'm going to hell at least it will not be for the attempted murder of a three month old defenceless infant." George scorned in return as he followed William towards the door, keeping himself at a safe distance, principally for his own sake. Leaning his heavy head against the doorframe, George watched in silence as the man he was supposed to consider a brother and his children were meant to regard as an uncle and a mentor figure swiftly descended the hallway in hot pursuit of the stairs. He didn't quite trust William not to reek havoc to ensure a dramatic and petty exit, but right now George couldn't quite care. He had won not only the battle, but the war, and his priorities now lay with his two boy's in the adjacent room in front of him.

All thoughts of the one sided fight pushed aside for the moment, George took the brass door handle between his still trembling fingers and gave it a quick turn, entering his bedroom as quietly as possible to ensure he didn't wake either of his sons on the off chance they were both asleep.

"I mean- I wasn't exactly worried per-say, but I thought I should just check it out, it seemed suspicious at the time, don't you think?" Jacky was currently sat with his back to the doorway, front facing the large window. He was only perched atop the disturbed blankets of George's bed, although Martha's side still remained untouched. It truly wasn't the same without her by his side. "I'm going to take that as a yes, we think alike you and I."

"What are you wittering about?" George teased lightly, startling his eldest to some degree. Jacky gave him a cheeky smile as he motioned for his father to join them with a jolt of his head, which George was happy to comply with.

"Nothing," He dismissed, shrugging his unoccupied arm slightly. George could just about make out Alexander's drowsy features in the faint light of the old oil lamp he kept at the side of his bed, a gift from his late brother Lawrence before his passing. "Secret brother things Pa', I can't tell you, it's confi- confident-."

"It's confidential? I see, pardon my interruption," he apologised, planting a swift kiss to Jacky's curls as the boy blushed at his mispronunciation. "May I suggest we continue this secret brotherly meeting tomorrow? I think you might find your other participant is falling asleep, and I can only assume it wouldn't be the same without his input."

The nine year old let out a tired gasp as he absorbed the sight of his baby brother, who's head had fallen limp against Jacky's chest.

Oh how George loved his boys.

"You're right Pa', I think I might have bored him."

"I'm sure that isn't the case, dearest, he's most likely just very tired, we have been awake for a few hours now." George consoled as Jacky willingly handed the boy over. He barely needed to lean forward to secure Alex inside the cradle beside his bed, he preferred to keep it as close to him as possible to ensure he was right there if his little treasure ever needed him at a moments notice. His finger's slightly graced the soft cushioning of the feather filled pillow they used to ensure their baby's sleep was filled with nothing but pleasant dreams and comfort. "Thank you for being so attentive today, your help is always appreciated, son."

As predicted Jacky's face lit up, before a sudden yawn took his cheeks by surprise, and he slapped a hand to his mouth in an attempt to stifle the natural reaction. 

"It's no problem Pa', I-I like helping," he agreed, barely able to nod his head without his eyes drooping. George took no notice of his son's quiet protests as he hooked his fingers beneath Jacky's underarms and practically dragged the boy towards his pillow, ushering him to lay down. "Pa'...'m too old to sleep in your bed."

"Shh," he hushed, pulling the lavish blankets around Jacky's slim frame. There really wasn't much to any of his children, they were all fed well and the older two often exercised, but it seemed all three of the Custis-Washington children had inherited their mother's height, stature and growing rates. "I'm not putting you to bed with me, I have a few private business affairs to attend too, plus I need to speak to your mother urgently. I couldn't possibly leave Alexander in here by himself though, and who better to ask to stand guard than his favourite big brother."

Jacky muttered something incomprehensible George could only assume consisted of unspecified mumbling such as "I'm his only older brother", but chose to ignore the statement and instead leaned down to press a kiss to his son's temples.

"Now you try and get some sleep dearest, I won't be too long," he reassured, repeating the motion as he turned and pressed his lips to Alexander's thin hairline. "I love you both so very much."

"Goodnight Pa', I love you too, an' so does Lex."

Waving the slightest chances of getting a decent amount of rest goodbye, George took one final close up look at his sons before turning towards the door, ready to tackle the humongous challenge that would be keeping Martha Washington in bed after retelling the unfortunate evening in her presence. She had already been utterly furious at the careless state Alexander had been left in when it was originally thought to be an accident, he couldn't imagine how thoroughly enraged she was going to be when she discovered who was behind it all. At least the story had a somewhat happy ending, and he couldn't deny Martha would absolutely melt at the notion of their eldest becoming extremely protective over their youngest, especially after his reluctance to accept Alexander in the first place.

Not to mention, George's responsible approach and strategical thinking in the boy's company was only another secure victory in his pocket, and hopefully after the seriousness of the situation had settled down he would be able to use it against his wife the next time she threatened to bring in a nursemaid.

They would be alright, if they could survive a crazed relative threatening arson, what couldn't the five of them survive?

He took a final glance in the direction of the bed as Jacky's breathing evened out into soft little puffs of air, signalising they had both drifted off to sleep in a matter of moments.

"Goodnight my angels, I love you as far as the stars could possibly take us, and some rumour that the stars go on forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor babies, all of them 🥺 except William of course. Not much is known about the Dandridge family other than the fact they were very religious, so I thought William using religion as an excuse to get to George was in character enough. 
> 
> So I may post one more chapter to this book, maybe Martha’s return to the family after her recovery with lots of brotherly (and sisterly) feels, but don’t fret! If you’re enjoying this cute AU I have lots of stories dedicated to the Washingtons, and I’m more than happy to share if anyone is interested! Thanks for reading!!


	3. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha comes to terms with the family she loves and the family she needs to leave behind, for the children’s safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon the wooden dialogue and lack of beta-reading in this chapter, not that any of my chapter’s are beta-read. Hope you enjoy the last chapter of progressive dynamics, I hope to publish the next story in this series soon!

'My dearest older sister, Martha,

I do hope this letter reaches you in good health, and the devil of sickness has unleashed its untimely burning claws from your being.

Now, pardon my abruptness, but we must not dally in rectifying the adherent mistake you have so poorly committed yourself and our beloved John and Martha too only six years ago; when you married that poor excuse of a tobacco planter.

You must have noticed in the midst of your illness that I took my leave much earlier than originally anticipated. This sudden departure was forced upon me by your doting husband after it was unearthed that I was attempting to put my own reputation in peril to aide your newborn son, and release him of his hereditary sins. Washington not only forced me away from the premises, but physically assaulted my person and insisted I'd be damned to hell for my courageous acts. He does not respect our family and our religious beliefs. Surely this you must see, dear Martha.

My beloved intelligent sister, I am most positive you will understand my words and how this may affect your perspective on the criminal you once called a husband. If so, which I'm sure shall be, we will arrange a time for Bartholomew and I to arrive with carriages. Yourself and the cherished children will join us, and we can return you to our family home within a night of travel, I will have a lawyer prepared upon our return.

However, I must insist you leave the infant with his father, at least until he has been cleansed by a priest. One in the same I have found Washington and your babe to be. Although it must scar you to hear such vulgar accusation propelled towards your boy, you must understand cautions are anticipated, and we must continue fourth with wariness. I sincerely apologise on Washington's behalf for discrediting such a small child with evil and corruption.

I look forward to hearing your proposal, I personally believe the hill over eastern yonder would be an ideal meeting ground if you wished to plan ahead in person, from what I could make out of my departure, that house is currently vacant. I hope to find a nimble response.

Anxiously awaiting to hear from you,

Your cherished younger brother,

William.'

Martha didn't quite register the slight pressure of her teeth pushing against her tongue, holding in the growing urge to spit on her younger brother signature as she finished glaring over the last letter she had ever received from him. She could feel the heat of her blood simply boiling as she read over the vile accusations William was attempting to force against her innocent son and adoring husband.

Forcefully pulling her vision away from the acidic wording, Martha immediately shifted her head only slightly to settle her sights on her husband in hopes of calming her raging anger. George was currently sat in a plush armchair against the far right wall of their drawing room, rocking a fussy Alexander rhythmically in his left arm, while the other was occupied with sorting through his own stack of letters.

In a fleeting moment of desperation after an awful few weeks of emotional turmoil and sickness, both George and Martha had decided they should sort through their many stacks of letters, sketched family artworks, and even a few packages they had never opened in hopes of revisiting a sincere list of memories, and maybe even raising Martha's low mood. Fortunately, for George the task had been an enjoyable affair as expected, a relaxing day filled with nothing but looking through his favourite moments immortalised in art, birthday wishes to each individual family member they had saved from over the years, many congratulating letters from friends for small, most likely insignificant achievements, and most importantly, eulogising notes, essays and practically tiny novels they had received from everybody they knew gushing over Alexander's arrival in early January that year.

However, for Martha it hadn't been all loving smiles and nostalgic thinking, it was something much more sinister, painful even.

The previous week, after Jacky and Patsy had taken Alexander from his cradle in an attempt to protect him from any rodents and tottering candles, George had briefly explained the predicament upon bringing Martha her supper that very same evening. It had been a struggle to restrain her upon the devastating news, and George had been forced to sit with his wife for hours upon end to ensure she did not jump out of bed and call every member of their household to the dining hall for interrogations. George had been there to calm her down at least, and even decided to dine with her in bed instead of with their children. They had both attempted to somewhat rationalise the situation after spending a few hours together, a false attempt to reassure one another that Alex would be fine and it truly could have been an honest mistake.

Martha physically felt her eyes and lips tug sharply as she began to cringe, how she could not have been more wrong.

Later on into that wretched evening, potentially even the early hours of the next morning, Martha had been startled awake upon her husband's abrupt entry into her room at an unthinkable hour, a candle held in his trembling grasp, sweat leaking down his white-stricken face, and somehow...mud in his hair...?

The first thought she had concluded simply revolved around George needing Martha's assistance with Alex, and he had finally caved under the immense pressure that came with tending to a newborn baby throughout the evenings, a bittersweet victory for herself.

However, George had instead told her that her younger brother, a man she had played a part in raising, loving, and even protecting, the very same man who was currently visiting their small family at Mount Vernon as to keep his big sister company and even help out with household responsibilities in her absence, had actually attempted to harm her newborn baby, which had not been the only thing to strike Martha sickly, but his open confession to the crime only seemed to worsen her condition.

She had been in a moment of shock when the news had been tossed upon her lap, her illness clouding her rational thinking as she had attempted to leap out of bed and go after William herself, but George had once again in a short space of time managed to calm her, pushing her beneath the many blankets and insisting she get her well needed rest. He assured her that William had been ordered away from their premises, and George had already locked the hallway door leading to the family wing of the first floor to ensure nobody could access their children if the dangerous man was lingering. He explained how Jacky had fallen asleep in his parent's bed, right beside Alexander in case any sort of predicament were to occur. She hadn't been too sure if her emotions were just incredibly spotty due to her then current physical state, but she had wept into George's arms for the duration of the morning, claiming she had never felt so betrayed, so hurt, and so very angry. Rage still resonated within every ounce of her blood, every single slip of bone, and if Martha happened to ever arrive face to face with William again, she wasn't even sure George's comforting arms would be able to contain her desperate need for justice.

But, until then, her husband had promised to allow some form of release by insisting they would search through their stacks of letters from their very first years of living together, enjoying the pleasant memories, and destroy anything they felt had too much of a William recollection.

And so they had been at their task since the early hours of the cool March morning, only stopping periodically to tend to Alexander or rotate who would sit by the roaring fire and who would cool down in the joint-favourite large chair towards the right side of the room, stationed beside a few of their many bookshelves.

The engagement had been doing well to somewhat comfort Martha at least, and it was truly liberating to rid herself of someone so incredibly deluded, no matter how deeply betrayed and utterly heartbroken she felt at the same time.

She slowly pulled herself from the horrifying memories as her eyes began to flicker between the letter in hand and the crepitating flames bouncing around the hearth in front of her perched position on the rug covered floor. Scanning the parchment a final time to fully absorb each ounce of hatred she felt for her defrauded brother and his misled actions, Martha tossed the parchment into the open fire, admiring its sudden cracking as the heat evaporated the last written words she would ever receive from William into pure nothingness.

"Good riddance," she laughed sadly, dusting her hands against the waistline of her skirt to rid them of whatever mind altering metaphorical disease could be contaminating her brother, and therefore the paper he had slaved over for hours in an attempt to persuade his sister to divorce her husband.

When she strongly reminisced over her past, it was a quick realisation that William had written plenty of similar letters previously, many even before Alexander's birth.

Martha had always been adamant William would go to the greatest lengths to ensure she separated from George, but she never would have speculated he could have gone so low as to attempt some sort of murder, against her precious Alexander no less.

"I have a confession," George suddenly spoke out, lifting his idolising gaze from their son as he took in his wife's appearance. Martha thought she would have most likely looked quite unattractive in her moment of sporadic working as she burnt all letters and packages William had ever sent her; ash on her face she was yet to wipe away from hours of sitting by the hearth, cheeks still flushed from her recovering sickness, tired features from their hard day at work, and ink most likely splotched across her hands from handling so much used parchment.

And yet George looked on at her as if she were some sort of goddess, or a beautiful creature only found by rivers and creeks, tales of breathtaking women who would serenade local fishermen with their outstanding vocals, leading them to their eternal doom beneath the still waters. Martha often saw that familiar look of admiration in George's greying eyes whenever he caught sight of any of their incredible children, or on the rare occasion the two of them rushed into one another amongst the dimly lit hallways in the midst of a busy day.

Her husband did truly love her, and their children, and there was no doubt in Martha's mind that wasn't the upmost truth.

"Well I am no priest my dear, but I will listen to your confession," she teased lightly in the midst of pushing herself into an uneasy standing position, feeling the warmth of the fire nip at her chilling legs as she readjusted her twisted skirt. George seemed to stare in a mixture of admiration and curiosity, before shifting his weight against the far side of the chair, allowing room for Martha to sit beside him, Alex, and amongst the many stacks of parchment.

She immediately seized the opportunity, never allowing a chance to melt into her husband's person to fall amiss. He allowed her to curl her torso into the indents of his own body, head gently placed against his chest in an attempt to not to disturb both the neatly piled letters, and the small child now positioned in his lap.

For a moment, Alexander seemed fixated upon his mother's appearance, those evocative blue eyes almost pressing against her being. He was a very beautiful baby, they would often receive many compliments on Alex's fair skin, or his magnificent eyes, or even the boy's odd amount of hair for somebody of his age, and yet the looks didn't seem to ring truth with Alex in Martha's mind, it felt as though there were many things to admire, things they were yet to unlock and discover until the small boy's awareness grew and he began walking, and even talking. It was something Martha could wait for, she loved her little one no matter his age or growing rate, but the curiosity would chip away at her subconscious every now and again, as one would when unable to shake an unanswerable feeling.

George's steady heartbeat thundered throughout Martha's ear as she allowed her eyes to flutter shut, permitting a hand to snake its way around both Alexander and her husband's waist.

The sweet feeling of contentment only lasted a mere moment however, before a sharp tugging sensation erupting from the edge of her hairline jerked Martha from her peaceful position.

Her eyes snapped open accusingly, and she was quite ready to snap at George for pulling her hair, of all of the childish things he could have done, when she suddenly realised it had in fact been Alexander's tiny fingers intertwined between his mother's ringlets, a playful smile adorning his cheeks as he registered just what he had done, before quickly recoiling his hand 'innocently'.

She fixed her babe with a playful glare, and sheathed her own hand from its resting place on George's lap, ready to lightly reprimand Alex for his mischievous acts.

It seemed every day her son was developing his own personality, and Martha never wanted to miss a fraction of that...a victory for George she supposed.

"I think that's his way of telling you to stay awake, he's barely seen you in two weeks," George chuckled as he began to reposition Alex by sitting the boy in the crook of his spare arm, tenderly pressing his lips amongst the red curls dusting the boy's head. "My confession, for informative purposes, is not anything I need relieving of, no sins have been committed I assure you, I merely needed to confess- please believe me upon my insistence when I say this statement is full of irony- but I somewhat pity your brother," he admitted, allowing his own head to tilt to his left, adding a small weight to Martha's scalp as they collided. "I mean, do not be misled, if he were to ever grace his presence in my near vicinity ever again I would have the man castrated, skinned and most likely hanged, however I still feel as though I greatly pity him. In the midst of this rivalry and insistence of my relation to the beneath, he has lost not only a sister, but a wonderful niece and an incredible nephew. I don't quite count treasure and I, as he never had much time for either of us, but even so, we would have been willing to put aside those differences had William ever needed us, we were his family of course. Not to mention, the man clearly has some kind of mental medical issue, he needs some sort of asylum help."

Martha sighed gently as she listened to her husband's rambling, tilting her chin to press a lingering kiss to his jawline. It was only then did she notice the large dark circles under his eyes, holding his usual bright demeanour hostage. He had been far too stubborn to admit it, but even Martha could see her lengthy absence had taken its weight on George's state, and she would be sure he received his well needed rest that evening.

"You are most definitely right, but George, believe me when I say there was not anything you could have done differently, William has always been very dependent on our saviour for as long as I can remember. He was not the eldest boy, nor eldest child, he didn't exhibit any breach of normality that could have attracted my father's attention, and so always found comfort in religion as a guiding principle," she paused for a moment as Alexander let out a gurgle, raising his hand and flexing his fingers in his father's direction. George cooed gently as he accepted their baby's hold, allowing Alex's thin nails to push into his own finger, earning a squeal of satisfaction from the boy. "When I married Daniel, I was only eighteen, which some argue is quite old for a woman of my status, but I was still juvenile in many ways, so my connection with all of my siblings remained untouched. However, when I remarried at a much older age, and on the aspect of love, not arrangements, William most likely felt extremely threatened. Therefore, he turned something dependable into an excuse to hate you, through no fault of your own."

"How is it you are so collected?" He chuckled, pressing his own lips to her forehead as they drew closer together. Martha simply shrugged, as if dismissing her knowledge on the situation down to pure talent and not the fact that she knew William better than he would ever care to admit. Although, she supposed most men were like that, Jacky always flushed at the mere thought that his mother knew all of his tells and tricks, no matter how sneaky he thought his actions to be. George was much more equable to the fact his wife could read him as if he were an open book, and she honestly couldn't wait to see how their Alexander would take to his mother's observant behaviour. Ironically, Patsy was always much harder to navigate, nobody was ever quite sure what she was up to if she felt the need to be secretive enough. "Either way, you are most certainly correct, my dear. It is a shame something as beautiful as God can lead to something so sinister."

"Like attempted child murder."

"How abrupt of you," she commented dryly, presenting herself to be unamused by their situation. She supposed they needed to laugh about the circumstance, if they didn't she might find herself riding atop horseback to her family home just to carve out her brother's innards with a freshly sharpened letter opener, ready to throw away her own chances at gaining acceptance into heaven just to ensure her baby boy's near death experience was avenged. "You know, it is remarkably quiet for a Friday afternoon. During my sickness I could often hear Jacky and Patsy squabbling from my room on the far west of the house, I'm surprised they are being so quiet." She mentioned in an attempt to distract them both from the chilling direction their conversation was turning into.

"That is most likely because neither of them are at home. A new family have just moved in over eastern yonder, a relative of the previous family who are now taking ownership of the land. Jacky wanted to ride over to introduce himself and converse with the neighbouring children, and I insisted he take Patsy with him." George explained, loosening his finger from Alex's weak grip as he moved to tuck a slip of hair behind his own ear. Martha playfully set her hand in a clawed position, and began dragging her fingers throughout her husband's auburn locks, smiling teasingly as he fixed her with a mocking expression. "They have quite a few children, a lot of boys, I've only seen one girl so far, she looks to be the oldest."

"Seems like a somewhat increased factorisation of our circumstances, I'm afraid Alex, Jacky and yourself outnumber Patsy and I," she noted chillingly. "On the contrary, when Alex begins to speak, they will have us in the minority. That will surely be terrifying."

"Surely you are not insinuating our children would ever gang up on us?" George asked in surprise. Alex grunted in dissatisfaction as he pushed his head against his father's arm, most likely searching for a comfortable position to drift off to sleep in, although the timing seemed to suggest Alex was merely agreeing with his father's opposition.

"Have you ever _met_ our children, George?" She deadpanned, freeing both of her hands from the tangles to push his hair away from his face. "Patsy can be persuasive enough on her own, Jacky knows too many words for his own good, and you already can't say no to Alexander."

"That's not entirely true, he hasn't given me a reason to say no to him as of yet," George argued, resting his forehead against Alex's as he held the boy up at an eye level position. "Isn't that right, treasure?"

Alex's face of displeasure suddenly melted into a smile at the sudden change in position, an unarticulated babble tumbling from his lips upon contact with his father. Martha wished she could have captured the moment in a simple sketch, always readily available for her to reminisce over whenever she were missing George in his monthly departures for the military, or even just feeling upset in general, but she was an awful artist and it would have taken far too long, even if she did hold any sort of talent when it came to any kind of art.

"Look at those big blue eyes," she mumbled gently, allowing her left hand to meander its way out of George's hair and down Alex's cheek. He looked to his mother as the sensation startled him, before melting back into his father's grip. "Just like your father, a very handsome individual, the women of the neighbouring towns all swoon whenever they see us coming, I'm no longer sure who holds responsibility over that."

"Oh? You think I'm a very handsome individual?" He teased, returning Alex to his original position.

She merely ignored him, swatting away his hand playfully as he moved to cup her cheek. It seemed quite easy to bask in one another's silence, comfortable, yet still gracious enough that neither of them feared to say something. Martha had always felt at ease in George's peacefulness, they had never experienced any awkward tension in need of defusing since their first meeting, despite her marital state to Daniel at the time.

Their tranquil aura was abruptly cut off by the loud footsteps of two eager youths from beyond the open door, Patsy's melodic voice singing a teasing little chant as she chased her older brother throughout the house. Martha felt her stomach physically lurch at the sight of her mud-covered children, and made sure to fix them both with a look of warning before either of them set foot in their neatly kept drawing room.

"Jacky's got a girlfriend!" Patsy giggled as she began kicking off her dirtied boots. She was quick to examine the rest of her feet to ensure they were mud free, before continuing to repeat her recitative as she hopped around the room, almost running straight into the pile of unsorted letters Martha was yet to decipher into two separate retain and dispose piles.

"I do not!" Jacky snapped in embarrassment, his cheeks flushed bright red as he shook off his own muddy riding gear. "Shut up Patsy!"

"Can you two honestly not get along for more than five minutes? I thought sending you on a fun little outing together could not possibly end in an argument." George tutted, somewhat flippantly. Martha sent him a side glance, her husband was an incredibly clever man, there could not be any way he would have thought their two eldest children would seize their bickering for more than an hour or two, especially when left to their own devices without immediate consequences. "Make sure you remove all muddy clothing before you sit down in here, no need to dirty the drawing room. Patsy my sweet, you have mud on your frock. 

Patsy paused for a moment as she grabbed fistfuls of her skirt, twisting it slightly to see the large mud splatters across the floral decorative fabric.

"You see, if Patsy could just climb on the horse like a _normal_ person, she wouldn't need to change her frock." Jacky hissed, running an aggravated hand throughout his hair as Patsy continued to study her image in the reflection of one of their mother's glass ornaments.

"Well if you hadn't been so busy helping your new _girlfriend_ I would not have slipped!" She shot back, purposely pushing past her brother as she stormed out of the room, clearly suddenly agitated by the amount of mud coating the back of her pinafore and in desperate need to change it.   


Both Martha and George glanced at one another without much concern, they were always certain silly disagreements such as those would pass, much like a storm shifting over the horizon. They both simultaneously smirked as Jacky pulled away his 'jockey' jacket and practically threw himself against one of their many armchairs, basking in the heat roaring from the open flame just beyond his fingers.

"So." George began, adjusting his grip on Alexander as the babe began to fuss slightly.

"A girlfriend?" Martha continued, slightly curious as to what Jacky had been up to in his time over the fields.

Jacky outwardly groaned and practically threw his head against the backing of his chair dramatically. Martha knew her oldest had inherited his tendency to be dramatic from his biological father, and although she did not often find herself missing Daniel, it was quite bittersweet to see remnants of her deceased husband in her son as he grew into a strapping young man.

"She is not my girlfriend! She's just one of the neighbouring children!" He grumbled, kicking at his white socks- which were no longer white- to allow his sore feet breathing room.

"Alright dearest, no need to snap," George tutted passively. She always loved how calmly her husband could reprimand their children without causing any unnecessary arguments or tears. He certainly had a way with their angels. "I haven't had the luxury of meeting our new neighbours as of yet, although I wouldn't quite call them our neighbours with how large the fields are between our plots, is there anything interesting you wish to share?"

"Well, I did not get a chance to meet many of them. The man of the house is a wealthy farmer like you are, and they have nine children, two girls and seven boys-" Martha couldn't quite imagine having that many boys in a singular household, she felt as though the three she had were just enough. Those poor girls must of felt quite outnumbered with eight men in their near vicinity consistently. "I only met four of the children, three boys and a girl. The boys were quite juvenile and spent their time playing with Patsy, so logistically I wasn't going to ignore the girl, she's a year younger than I, but not the oldest of her family. She's got this really annoying conceited name too, Anneliesia or something like that. I thought she was going to be so very snotty, but she was actually quite...fun, I guess. We raced throughout her parent's fruit trees on horseback, and she told me to call her Anne. I had a lot of fun with her, but that does not make her my girlfriend, far from it to be exact."

Martha chuckled lightly at her son's insistence, and it certainly wasn't due to her disbelief in him, in fact she considered him completely truthful when he expressed no romantic feelings for his new friend, but his defensive mechanisms were extremely bashful, which honestly gave off the wrong impression entirely.

"If you say so, son," George teased as he began to pat Alexander's back in an attempt to ease their punctilious infant. Martha immediately noticed her youngest was slowly dropping into an unconscious state, his tiny hand escaping from the awkward position between both his father's chest and his own being in an attempt to grab George's collar. "I think I may stretch my legs for a moment, it might send treasure off into a proper sleep and seize his fussing. Upon my return shall we continue our work, my dear? I'd say we are almost finished."

"Of course, you settle Alex, I'll be here when you get back," she smiled, running her fingers against her husband's elbow as he stood from their joint chair and made his way towards the doorway, whispering inaudible sweet nonsense to their son as he turned into the corridor and out of sight.

Jacky, still seemingly annoyed at the unfair judgment of his little sister, merely sent his mother a sidewards peek, before fixating his pupils on the flames beyond the hearth, still cracking with newly tossed paper.

"You mustn't take what your sister says to heart, dear. She's only eight, it is expected of her to pester you, much like Alex will pester her when he has the ability to do so." Martha insisted, patting the now empty space beside her. Jacky didn't give any sort of response for a moment, before he reluctantly pushed himself onto steady footing and shuffled towards his mother, collapsing in the plush cushioning of the chair beside her. The nine year old was currently expediting an awkward stage of temperamental growing where he was not quite as tall as his mother, but still tall enough for their body's to reject a comfortable state of interlocking, and instead Jacky had to bend his head at an awkward angle to rest it against her shoulder.

"I cannot _wait_ for that day to arise," he huffed, his hot breath tickling Martha's exposed neck. "You know, I might even speed the process along by assisting him, I'll have Alex walking in no time. We'll chase her with spiders, that's what we'll do."

Martha pressed a peck to Jacky's curls, the cold tingling her lips as she came into contact with his messy hair. She did not feel the need to reprimand Jacky for his boyish scheme to pursue Patsy with any sort of arachnids, she had witnessed the boy flinch at the sight of a spider crawling across his desk quite a few times in the past, there wouldn't be a chance on earth Jacky would subject himself to actually picking one up.

"Assisting him? So your father's claims are true after all?" She teased, running a hand through his messy locks. "I do wish you would tie your hair up like your father, it would save us this predicament."

"What are you talking about, Ma'?" He asked, seemingly ignoring his mother's comment over his refusal to keep a tidy mane. 

"Well, your father has been keeping me updated during my absence, and he has been telling me you have taken quite the shining to Alexander as of recent?"

Jacky continued to blush, the red shimmer now spreading down his neck and into the tips of his chilly ears.

"Oh...yeah I guess so," he mumbled quietly. "I haven't been doing much though, outside of that whole rat ordeal anyway. Just simple things like rocking him, comforting him and occasionally feeding him if Pa' is extremely busy, although it takes forty minutes and he will still fuss and cry till Pa' takes him. Patsy is always insisted she can get him to calm down, never works though."

"She likes to be useful, and every young lady gets excited over babies. We shouldn't judge your sister when she's only trying to help," she smiled. "And Jacky, even if you do not feel you have contributed very much, you have done an incredible amount of things for your father and I throughout my sickness. From what I've heard, Alex absolutely adores being in your arms, it just might be one of his favourite places to sleep."

Jacky nodded and made an attempt to position his limbs in the similar supportive hold he would usually use to cradle his little brother. 

"Maybe, I couldn't quite say myself, although I suppose it is quite easy with how small he is, Pa' speculates that Alex is one of the smallest infants he has ever met."

"Your father is so very right. I think we have a simple sketch your Aunt Elizabeth's husband whipped up after Alex's birth in this pile somewhere, it shows just how small he was when he was born. Hows about you and I look through some of them? There's a few of you and your sister in here too." Martha suggested, picking up the large stack of papers and parchment George had discarded near the foot of the armchair, safely tucked away without any chance of mixing the keepers throughout the disposable.

Both mother and son spent the remainder of their time alone in an awkwardly interlaced position, looking through drawings of their family and letters from years prior, things that brought smiles to both Jacky and Martha's faces, no matter the lingering sadness hovering in her chest over the unfortunate events of the previous few weeks.

Upon George's quick return, Alex was fast asleep, face turned into his father's shoulder as he slept. The soldier silently seated himself on the floor beside Martha's neatly folded legs, and found himself returning to sorting, occasionally passing along a letter for his wife to check before he either tossed it amongst the flames or placed it in their pile to hold onto. 

Not too long after George's reappearance, Patsy joined them in a much cleaner dress with a big smile on her face, ready to accompany and assist her father and brother upon the rug with whatever they were doing, always happy to offer her assistance in any way she could.

The close family of five didn't need any sort of verbal gratification to exchange, they simply basked in one another's love and memory enduring stories.

As Martha accepted another letter, one of the last, from George's hand, she felt an unwanted small shiver run through her lower back. It was a short passage, no bigger than three paragraphs, but still brimming with profanity opposing her plan's to marry George in 1759. With a strong lack of irony, William had insisted against the wedding, and demanded he be taken from the guest list if it were to continue as planned.

She didn't even feel the need to scout the message, simply scanning for its basic summary, before handing it to George with a grim smile. She allowed her eyes to wander from her husband's concerned frown, to Alex's peaceful state of neutrality, towards Patsy's adorable grin as she read over the replying letter from George's mother after they had announced Martha's first pregnancy bearing George's child, and finally returned to Jacky, who was watching his father and brother fondly, a rosy smile taking his flushing face.

"You can toss it my love, although heartbreaking so, my tender family lies beside me. You are all I need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved making this cute little story, and I honestly can’t wait to publish more, especially when I can begin giving Alex more independent dialogue and dedicated chapters! Feel free to drop by my tumblr and have a chat, I’m all for making new friends in this fandom! (Although it kinda terrifies me)


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